A Study in Parenting
by That Purple One
Summary: John and Sherlock have just become parents to a lovely little girl. Here are a few stories about their lives together. Fluffy goodness inside! Established Johnlock. Chapter 3 now up!
1. A Study in Texting

**_A/N: This is a brief little thing, all fluff. I imagine that if Sherlock was a parent, he'd soften up a bit. This is my first story on here, so feel free to submit constructive criticism... it all helps :) Anyway, enjoy the fluffy goodness! [Texting is in bold]_**

John was at work at the hospital, filling out paperwork. It had been a pretty slow day and he hadn't had any patients. He looked at the clock. There were only a few more minutes until his lunch break, so he decided to take it early. As he was heading downstairs, his phone beeped.

**John, I can't find her anywhere. –SH**

**Last I saw her, she was wandering around 221B… -SH**

Sherlock really needed to give more context when he was texting, John thought to himself.

**who, sherlock? –JW**

**My daughter! Who did you think, Mrs Hudson? Well I guess that's plausible… -SH**

**oh god, sherlock. this is the third time this week! check in the laundry room. she likes my jumpers, try looking by the hamper. –JW**

**Thanks. Be right back… -SH**

**text me if you've found her. –JW**

John fiddled with his phone impatiently for two minutes until it beeped again.

**Oh my goodness I thought she hailed a cab or something. –SH**

… **Bad experiences with cabbies … -SH**

**stop making me laugh, i'm at lunch and my co-workers are staring at me. i assume you found her? –JW**

**You were right, about the hamper. How did you know? –SH**

**i knew… well, because a father always knows. –JW**

**with the exception of you, of course. –JW**

**She misses you, can't wait for you to come home. –SH**

**i suppose i could take the rest of the day off and say i'm feeling ill. -JW**

**Come to think of it, I would rather spend the rest of the day in bed… -SH**

**And Mrs Hudson's supposed to watch the little angel later on so… -SH**

**are you implying what i think you're implying? –JW**

**because if so, i'm on my way right now. –JW**

**You better be. –SH**

**christ, yes, alright. i'm leaving now. –JW**

**See you soon, xoxo –SH**

John read Sherlock's last text message and smiled to himself, hailing a cab out in front of the hospital. He arrived back at 221B quicker than he expected, thank heavens. He paid the cabbie and fumbled with his keys in the lock only to bolt up the stairs in search of Sherlock. "Sherlock? Where are you?" he called out, setting his suitcase and keys on the coffee table.

"Daddy? Daddy?" A sweet little voice called out from the top of the stairs. John ran towards his little bundle of joy and scooped her up in his arms.

"Now, where's your father gone to now?" he asked, squatting down to her height and nuzzling her nose. John giggled as he picked up his daughter and kissed her on the forehead. "We should go find him, shouldn't we?" he asked, hiking her up so that she was on his shoulders. John walked into their bedroom and found Sherlock lying on the bed, reading. His reading glasses had slipped down the bridge of his nose, and his chin was on his chest.

"Well, well. Look who we've found, missy!" he exclaimed, grabbing her and settling her down next to Sherlock while he climbed over to the other side of the mattress. He gave him a quick peck on the lips. "Hello, love."

Sherlock smiled as he watched her snuggle up between them. John glanced over at Sherlock, somewhat confused. "What about Mrs Hudson picking her up?" he asked.

"Oh, she couldn't make it. She had plans with Mrs Turner. Why?" Sherlock put his book down on the bedside table. John blinked at him a few times.

"I just thought you and I—" Sherlock stopped him by nodding at the little girl. She was falling asleep against his chest. John smiled knowingly and cuddled up against the two. "Well at least I'm home with you two now."

_**A/N: I am a sucker for cuddling. It's simply too cute. Thanks for reading :D**_

_**-Purple**_


	2. A Study in Patience

_**I'm back! Here's another one... Let's take a trip back in time a bit, shall we? More or less three years before the last chapter. Here's the day John and Sherlock add one to their family. **_

_**Thanks to everyone who read last chapter, especially AdorableToast, Browneyedshamer, and TheNameIsHolmesSherlockHolmes here on FF. Special thanks to Victoriapain on tumblr for reading this chapter in advance.  
**_

**_Disclaimer: Rights to ACD and Mofftiss for John and Sherlock, but the daughter is mine :)_  
**

* * *

"John? John! Are you dozing off again?" Sherlock prodded. John awoke with a start, pulse rate rising then falling again as he recognized his surroundings. "John, of the two of us, I'd think you'd be the one who would at least show some enthusiasm. Today of all days! Today, dear Watson, our lives will change. We will have a role in life that neither of us has had before, starting today," he looked over at John and took a breath; "That is, unless she doesn't hurry along, then I guess it could be tomorrow, but they'd probably induce—"

"Yep, Sherlock. I know. Doctor, remember?" he pointed to himself, "But I've been sitting here for six bloody hours in this bloody hospital! I think I have a bit of a right to be irritable, _dear._"

"Five."

"What?" he was growing impatient.

"Five hours, John. You said six."

He turned to Sherlock. He wanted to punch him in his perfect face for being so _goddamn particular_, but instead, he just looked at him. He studied his face. _Beautiful man, no doubt about that. I guess that makes me pretty lucky, to be stuck with someone like him._ He liked how, from his position, he was always looking up at Sherlock. The light bounced off of his angular face in the most striking way, giving the looming, tall man a very dramatic appearance. John's attention zeroed in on the smaller details of his face, like the faint lines that were starting to make themselves known. His forehead was constantly furrowed in concentration, leaving its mark up by his hairline. The corners of his almond eyes would sometimes crinkle up when he smiled, along with the slight laugh lines beginning to form on his cheeks.

That, right there, is what calmed him down. He forgot all about his anger at Sherlock. He was able to relax by studying his partner's face. The stress of waiting for the past _six months_ was finally able to leave his system. It was like there was a weight lifted off his shoulders, and he could see the finish line. He took a deep breath and let the calm surround him.

Sherlock, on the other hand, was a bundle of nerves. He was jittery and restless, but not irritable. No, he was not in a bad mood at all! He was… excited, that's the word. Excited to start off on his next big experiment, the one that would last him a lifetime. He glanced at the clock every two minutes and tapped out Paganini and Vivaldi on the arm of the chair with his fingers.

He looked nervously at John, who had gone from furious to calm in a few seconds. _At least he found some peace. I'm being quiet, but in no way is this peaceful._ He hoped that he could pick up some of John's calm composure by osmosis, so he reached out to John in the seat next to him and wrapped his long arms around his companion. John was surprised by the sudden burst of affection from the slender man, but he hugged him back anyway, breathing in his scent. To John, Sherlock smelled like the wool of his trademark coat, morning tea, and pages of an old book. To Sherlock, John smelled like love.

At long last, after six hours of waiting, a smallish woman wearing scrubs called Sherlock and John to the room just down the hall. She ushered them in and shut the door behind them for privacy. Inside the clinical-smelling room, a young woman was lying on the hospital bed, pillows stacked up behind her lower back for support. In her arms, she held a tiny bundle of blankets. Her right elbow was tipped up to support the infant's head, and she was gazing down at the precious little parcel.

John stood by the door, hand in hand with Sherlock, and waited for the new mother to look up and greet them. She turned her head away from the baby to say hello to the two men that had entered. A brief nod of her head and a smile gave them the OK to step forward into the room, and they hustled over by the side of the bed.

Sherlock felt his heart melt as soon as he looked into the tiny blue eyes of the little child. _Looks just like the mother. She'll be beautiful when she's older._ John saw Sherlock's features soften as he watched the little girl with visible joy.

"Would one of you like to hold her?" she inquired. John squeezed Sherlock's hand to encourage him.

"Uh, yes. I-I would," Sherlock stammered, at a loss for words for what seemed like the first time in his life. She smoothly passed the bundle to the eager man, placing her gently in the crook of his elbow. He sat on the edge of the bed, one foot slightly off the ground. He brought the long, graceful fingers of his left hand up to the baby's head to smooth the blanket out of the way. "She's uh, really beautiful," he finally managed to say. He held her for a little while longer, then decided his turn was up. "John, do you want to hold her?"

He came around to Sherlock's side and lifted the baby into his arms. She was small enough to snuggle right into the fuzzy folds of the sleeve of his jumper. _She's gonna love my jumpers when she's older, I bet. _Sherlock stood up from the edge of the bed and moved into place behind John. He gazed at the little beauty from over John's shoulder before nuzzling his chin into the spot where his neck and jumper-covered shoulder met, hugging him from behind. "I'm so happy, John," he murmured.

John chuckled. "Sherlock Holmes, 'so happy'? I should get this on camera to show to the Yard. The guys'd never believe you," John teased, eyes shining. He leaned his head back into Sherlock's embrace and let out a sigh of relief. They looked down at their daughter, _their daughter,_ and could see all the years ahead in her sparkling blue eyes.

_**A/N: Thanks for reading! Questions, comments, concerns? Review! **_

_**Love y'all -Purple  
**_


	3. A Study in Soothing

_**A/N: Hello lovelies, here's one more! Short, I know, but I will work on some longer ones.**_

_**Disclaimer! None but the baby.  
**_

_**Thanks to Otala, BegMeTwice, AdorableToast, and Izzydelta here on FF. I LOVE YOU  
**_

_**So! On to the show: In which John and Sherlock both fall asleep in chairs one night.  
**_

"John, she's been crying _endlessly_. Why can't I just go in and hold her?" he asked the doctor, worry in his voice, eyes pleading. "I mean, what if she's hurt?"

"Sherlock, she really needs to learn to self-soothe. She's not hurt; she's just tired. She'll fall asleep and everything will be fine." He looked at Sherlock, who was pouring some chemicals into a glass beaker. Since the baby had begun crawling around the flat, building motor skills to eventually learn to walk, they had to childproof everything. That meant to Sherlock _no experiments, no murder weapons, no chemicals or body parts._ To John, it was a simple matter of moving the teakettle when he was done. Still, Sherlock performed quick experiments in the nighttime when she was asleep.

Sherlock paced anxiously back and forth by the kitchen table. He had no idea how John could just sit there, drinking tea and reading in his favorite chair, without going out of his mind. "But doesn't the sound of her crying bother you? Doesn't it drive you _mad?_ Doesn't it just make you want to drug her or something so she'll fall asleep?"

John had gotten used to Sherlock's crazy solutions to problems, so he just shook his head. "No, love. It doesn't." He continued reading, completely at peace. He could feel Sherlock's stare boring into the back of his head, (he assumed Sherlock had his "_are-you-even-talking-about-the-same-thing-I-am _face on, it was very similar to his _are-you-completely-insane_ face) but he didn't give up. He was a doctor. He had read about parenting. He needed to give her the opportunity to be independent. If she wanted to stop crying, she would.

"That's it, I've had enough. My mind can handle many things, but this isn't one of them. I need to end this, right now." He ran up the stairs to where John's old bedroom was. He heard John coming after him, but decided that he probably wouldn't yell at him in front of the baby, so he may have gotten out of this one. He cracked open the door. A sliver of light from the hall pierced the dark nursery, shining almost directly on the crib inside.

He moved slowly, with his hands over his ears. The piercing screams didn't end. He leaned over, murmuring to the child, "Shh, shh, it's okay, father's here, don't cry, I'm here, calm down, it's okay, you're okay." He reached in to the crib and lifted the squirming infant. He could tell by the dampness on her left hand that she had tried sucking her thumb, (and also that she might be a lefty when she's older) but it hadn't worked. Her blanket was rumpled and she was warm from overexertion. He propped her up over his shoulder, whispering into her curly locks and rubbing her tiny back. He realized with some surprise that his hand could cover her entire back just by rubbing in one small circle.

She relaxed her neck and closed her eyes as he slowly walked around the room, bouncing a little. She smelled soft and sweet and he could have just held her _forever. _He circled around a few more times before sitting down in a soft armchair on the other side of the room. She fit so perfectly on his shoulder there, curled up with her hand on his chest. Her breaths were slow and easy, and her tears had dried. He was dozing off almost instantly, forgetting that John should have stopped him by now.

* * *

John followed him up the stairs, but stopped when he noticed how quiet it had become. He leaned up against the wall right by the door to the nursery, and slid down until he was sitting. He listened, but didn't catch anything at first. He then heard what sounded like, "Father's here, don't cry." It brought a little smile to his face to hear Sherlock speaking so lovingly to her. He heard a few footsteps around the room, but they slowed to a stop. He heard Sherlock's unmistakable sigh as he sat down in the short man stood up from where he had been sitting, slightly sore, and peered around the corner into the nursery. Sherlock was sitting, with the little baby taking up a tiny occupancy on his shoulder, breathing, existing together. _Sod parenting, I'd do this too if it stopped the crying. Win-win situation, right?_ He closed the door slowly and returned downstairs to finish his tea. It had gone cold by then. He settled into his comfortable chair and closed his eyes. _Excuse the cliché,_ he thought to himself,_ but this silence truly is golden._

_**Thanks again, and please tell me what you think!**  
_

_**-Purple  
**_


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